Grievers, Grief, and Grieving… . Oh MY!!

May 8, 2026.  I am writing off the cuff with minimal process today. I usually have a writing finished and edited and ready to post before the posting date. 

Not this one.

Not today. 

 The month of May is the worst possible time for me, every single year, for the last 17+ years. My mom got sick in May. My Dad lost his battle with lung cancer in May. The Bio-Dad got sick in May. 

We lost Will May 9, 2026.

So, from now until the end of time, I will always grieve that much harder in May.  

Grieving is the worst.  My grief takes over every single cell in my body.   And the statement, everyone grieves differently, is true. My grief is sometimes physical. Most of the time, I am totally frozen in a moment, and when I come out of it, I cannot place myself in that exact place and time. It’s like when you faint.  I have done that too a few times these last 3 years. The first time, I can remember being on my feet and at my kitchen counter.  When I opened my eyes, I could make out the flooring, and the bottom of the refrigerator.  And my vision was fuzzy.  It took me a moment to figure out what had happened. My husband heard me fall, but I was lucid by the time he came into the kitchen. 

Terror is perpetually waiting on my shoulder contemplating the precise moment to choose to knock me off my feet.  Losing Will entrenched terror into my being.  If I allow myself to think about how the car crash happened, or watching his eyes for the first few hours, while his brain was trying to reconnect. Holding his hand and hoping and needing him to squeeze it back.  Begging him to come back, that it’s not his time.   Silently pleading and begging for one small sign of life.   

Terror is here. With me. By my side. Always whispering “I can control you. I can take you out whenever I want to.”  While my heart tries to control my fears, my brain controls my grief. 

Grief happens to us all. We all grieve in our own ways. Grievers are always on guard, trying to control what will never be controlled.  

So many things have changed for me these last 3 years. Emotionally, mentally, physically.  It’s exhausting, it’s terrifying, and it is our life now. 

Thanx for being here.

XOXO

BRI